


Nothing To Fear

by FishFlesh



Series: Cult Collection [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Cults, Jazz being a little less spooky, M/M, Other, Prowl vague thinking about Things, cult motto: 'till all are one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 13:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20815892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishFlesh/pseuds/FishFlesh
Summary: Learning—relearning—had been an experience and there was still more to learn, no doubt. Already Prowl understood. The world was not static and sterile, the construct of abstract ideas that held society together, while still there, now masked a more interesting reality than the simple lack of order he had perceived before.





	Nothing To Fear

“Nothin’ to fear.” Jazz’s voice was calming, sliding over Prowl like warm oil as they both looked down into the darkness stretching out beneath them. There was a light down there somewhere, deep into Cybertron, but where they sat now, legs danging over the edge, there was only the abyssal darkness of the planets innards.

Learning—relearning—had been an experience and there was still more to learn, no doubt. Already Prowl understood. The world was not static and sterile, the construct of abstract ideas that held society together, while still there, now masked a more interesting reality than the simple lack of order he had perceived before. 

He did not regret his decision, full of peril as it may be.

“When will you take me?” His voice was low, calm but lacking the blanketing warm of the enigmatic mech sitting beside him. Prowl continued to peer down into the dark chasm, knowing full well that even where they sat was dark save for their own biolights and a faint red illumination coming from far to their left.

There was movement at his side, the stripe of blue that was Jazz’s visor turning toward him for a long moment. Prowl didn’t move.

“Who said I’d be goin’ with ya?” He grinned, or so Prowl thought, both their expressions hidden in the shadows. “You’ll go when ya feel like it.”

“I see.” When he felt like it? Typical—Jazz took too much enjoyment in giving him vague answers or dragging him into some new activity without warning. It was infuriating.

Slowly he drew his legs up, pushing himself to stand and stretch, waiting as Jazz turned and scrambled up much more vigorously despite the steep drop into the planets core just beside them. Down here the air rarely moved and the stillness was still unsettling against his doorwings. The sensation dissipated as they began to walk, turning away from the ledge and moving along the winding corridor that led back towards the surface.

He reflected on what he had learned, the joys of existence, and wondered why such things were forbidden. Jazz had told him, of course, but the logic of it was still puzzling. Before, when he knew little of the truth, he had been told that those like Jazz were evil. That their beliefs were not only wrong but harmful. To allow such practices to permeate society would lead to mass chaos and collapse. But Jazz was ancient, despite how he appeared, and had told him that it was not always so. Things had been different once, so when had--

“I can hear ya thinkin’.” Jazz was looking at him, the glow of his visor gleefully bouncing at his side as they approached the blue-green glow of Cybertron’s inner illumination, a line of planetary biolights running diagonally along the wall to the right. “Ask.”

In the more abundant lighting he could make out the smile, impish and still far-too-knowing. Jazz really was infuriating sometimes. However, he couldn’t help returning the smile, though it was small and reserved in comparison.

“No.” He could ask about such things later. “I would rather you show me again—to be one.” It would be a far more enjoyable afternoon than asking questions about history.

Beside him Jazz smiled, blinding and full of devious joy. A clawed hand shot out to catch his wrist and they were suddenly bathed in green light as they slipped into one of the many shafts leading off from their current course. “Sure thing, Prowler! We can meet up with the others and all be one. Ya want me first or wanna save ol’ Jazz for last?”

“And why not both?” Came the subdued reply, the underlying amusement in his bland speech something Jazz had gotten quite good at picking up.

Jazz only laughed, the sound far too bewitching. “We’ll make a hedonist out of ya yet!”

“Don’t count on it.”

They continued down the green-lit corridor, moving up the gentle slope as they neared the more familiar caverns and tunnels Prowl had come to know. Anticipation began to worm its way through his lines, circuits tingling as his sensor panels flared. Beside him, Jazz was a grinning devil, ready to damn Prowl all over again. That was fine.

There was nothing to fear.

**Author's Note:**

> Just two cultists sitting in the dark way too deep underground. Y'know, normal stuff that normal people do. 
> 
> Then they go and have an off-screen orgy.


End file.
